Origin of the Fop
by Dark Lady of the Sonnets
Summary: A one-shot about where Erik got the word fop in the first place. Movie-based.


Antoinette Benoit, who would later become Antoinette Giry, the head of the Opera Populaire ballet, made her way down the steps into the catacombs blow the opera house. She held a torch in one hand and a basket with things for Erik in the other. She had put some food and a book for the little boy she had saved from the cruel gypsies' circus show.

The library near the opera house had decided to get rid of some flimsy, yet cheap paperback volumes that had ripped from being read, enjoyed, and accidentally abused by too many people. Erik had been opening up to her more lately; she wanted to know if the boy could read. If he could, she would bring him more books. The poor thing didn't have a lot to do under the opera house. He was a genius, and she was sure she could teach him if he could not read.

She stepped into the boat and rowed her way across the smooth surface of the lake. Her strong dancing muscles made the trip easy and, although the basement of the opera house was eerily silent, yet it was calm and peaceful under there. The rhythmic back-and-forth motion of rowing soothed her. This peace and quiet was a relief from the other girls studying ballet, who, in all honesty, could be very loud at times. This tranquility was one of the reasons she enjoyed her trips down to the cellars where Erik lived so much.

"Erik!" she called as she reached the other end of the lake,"It's me!" The part at the end was a bit obvious, as no one else visited the lonesome boy, or even knew he was there for that matter.

"'Toinette!" the lonely little boy called her by his nickname for her delightedly. He had no one to talk to down in the basement, so he was always delighted to see Antoinette and have someone to talk to, even if it was just for a few minutes here and there, when ever she could get way from the ballet dormitory and bring him some food.

"Hello Erik," she hugged him. Although he was he was indisputably ugly, he was still adorable in the way all little boys of his age were, deformed or otherwise. He had innocence in his face, the normal, not distorted half, at least.

"Food! You brought food!" he said excitedly, another trait he shared with all little boys his age was his never-ending appetite.

"Yes I did," the ballerina replied," and a book too. I was wondering, can you read?"

'A little. A girl taught me when I lived with the gypsies." Erik informed her, "I really liked it."

The fact that someone had educated Erik surprised Antoinette a little. She never thought that anyone had gotten close enough to the ugly little boy to teach him before her. Apparently not. Then again, she reminded herself, Erik was a genius.

"Well," she said,"I brought you a book. The library was going to throw it out, and I've already read it. Do you want it?"

The small boy's eyes lit up with the prospect of reading the book. He had enjoyed reading when the gypsy girl, whose name escaped him, taught him; he had only wanted to read more. Owning a book himself didn't even seem like it was even in the realm of possibility for him then. "Yes!" he exclaimed instantly.

After spending a few more minutes in the cellar with Erik, Antoinette waved good-bye to Erik, knowing that if she stayed too long the head of the opera's ballet, Madame Gillette, would miss her. After watching her go and waving good-bye, Erik eagerly began to devour the book.

It was entitled "The Hedgerow" and it was about an evil vicompte, Anton Brun, who plotted to take the king's throne. It had many words that Erik did not know, but he was able to figure out what they meant. On the second day of reading the book, Erik came to another new word, but this one sounded funny.

"'The King is an utter fop,' the vicomte said,'all he does is fuss with his clothes all day." Erik guessed that a "fop" was someone who wanted to dress well.

"Fop," he said aloud to himself, the word felt odd on his tongue, "Fop, fop, fop."

"Fop" immediately became Erik' favorite word. It enamored him; it was magical and musical. He said it to himself all the time. One day, when he had nothing to do, he composed a piece entitled, "The Fop Song." It was not his best work, however, and he never would admit its existence to anyone years later.

When Antoinette came by the next time, his first words to her as she stepped off the boat were, "You're a fop!"

"Erik," she asked, not remembering the word from the book it had been so long since she had read it, "is a fop?"

"Someone who wants to dress well," he'd answered smugly, "I learned it from "The Hedgerow."

The ballerina smiled an almost motherly smile. She was surprised at how proud she was of him, and she felt a little taken aback at how fond she was of the unsightly little creature.

Even years later, the word fop still stuck with Erik although for unfathomable reasons. Though he expanded his vocabulary and matured considerably, fop was still not only his favorite word, but also his insult of choice.

When Christine Daae, the woman who he loved so passionately, so deeply, so _desperately, _betrayed him for Raul de Chagny, there was no doubt in his mind what the vicompte was. Not only an insolent fool, bastard, and pathetic boy, but above all, a_ fop_, just like the fashionable King Pierre from "The Hedgerow."

Looking back, Erik pondered the almost cruel irony; the man he hated with a ardent fervor, who stole _Christine, _could best be described with the captivating, sweet word he loved, "fop."


End file.
